


There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

by lesbianscullies



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Mulder and Scully are pretentious music snobs. I've decided it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianscullies/pseuds/lesbianscullies
Summary: “Mulder, there is no way you actually believe that.” If he had a dollar for every time she said that he’d be a rich man. And, as usual, he did believe it, one hundred percent.Mulder and Scully engage in an age old debate of the Cure vs. the Smiths
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

**Author's Note:**

> This fic appeared to me in a dream and I like, couldn't NOT write it. So here it is but like, 2% less insane. I hope this comes out as pro Cure bc the Smiths SUCK
> 
> EDIT: The same day I posted this, Morrissey got dropped from yet ANOTHER record label. You can thank me in the comments, you're welcome. Can you believe I have the power?

“Mulder, there is no way you actually believe that.” If he had a dollar for every time she said that he’d be a rich man. And, as usual, he did believe it, one hundred percent.

“You’re telling me that you really think that The Cure is better? Mulder, have you ever heard a Smiths song?” 

“Unfortunately, Scully, I have indeed had the distinct displeasure of hearing a Smiths song, yes.” 

This debate had started by accident somewhere in between somewhere and the middle of nowhere. Mulder had been flipping through stations when he came across one playing How Soon Is Now. He had made a face and groaned. “What, you don’t like the Smiths?,” Scully had asked, voice curious, eyes wide. “No, Scully. I do not like the Smiths.”

“How can you not like the Smiths?”

He shrugged. “Always been more of a Cure fan.”

This led them to the current moment where they were no longer holding back. 

“You know, Mulder, I expected better from you.”

“Better from me?” She nodded. 

“To know that you prefer the Cure is really making me question our whole partnership.”

“But Scully, how could you not prefer the Cure. In fact, you liking the Smiths at all is appalling. I mean, how could anyone listen to that garbage?”

“Garbage?” She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“You really don’t see it? Some pretty boy whining about wishing he was dead does not good music make. I mean, listen to him! He sounds like a dying whale.” He launched into a nasally Morrissey impression.

“Oh, and Robert Smith doesn’t? I don’t understand how you can listen to that caterwauling for fun.”

“Caterwauling, Scully? Really? He has a very distinct vocal style that goes along with the experimental nature of their music.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter and muttered under his breath, “Caterwauling?” They still had three hours to go until they reached the motel and suddenly, the idea of spending three hours trapped in a car with a very angry, very opinionated, Scully was less than ideal. “At least the Cure has better lyrics.”

“Cure lyrics make even less sense than most of your half-baked theories, Mulder! ‘Let me take your hand, I’m shaking like milk?’ What does that even mean?”

“It isn’t supposed to make sense, Scully. It’s supposed to be fun, a concept that you clearly aren’t familiar with, probably because you listen to the Smiths.”

Scully crossed her arms and huffed. Mulder simply shrugged. “The lyrics don’t even matter because you can’t understand what he’s even saying!”

“Maybe you’re just not listening carefully enough.”

“Sure, fine. Whatever. At least Smiths lyrics have depth.”

“Yeah, about as much depth as a puddle. I’m pretty sure I wrote better song lyrics when I was 13. ‘Please don’t drop me home because it’s not my home, it’s their home and I’m welcome no more’? I mean, it sounds like Morrissey got in a fight with his mommy!” He chuckled. 

“You just don’t get it, Mulder.” Scully crossed her arms. “What does Robert Smith even sing about anyway? His songs are more confusing than his god awful fashion sense. At least Morrissey is attractive.”

“First off, Robert Smith is a revolutionary. Morrissey just sits and moans about his lot in life. Wah wah, I’m sad, nobody likes me, I wish I were dead. At least Robert Smith isn’t wallowing in it. He took his feelings and transcended genre. And, secondly, Morrissey is not attractive. He sure thinks he is though. At least Robert Smith knows he’s ugly and embraces it.”

“He’s certainly more attractive than you.” This was a low blow, and she knew it, but Mulder was simply being ignorant. He had no taste, she thought. Mulder thought the same of her.

“And heaven knows I’m miserable now! I can’t believe we’ve been partners all these years and I’m just now finding out that you have the worst taste in music I’ve ever heard.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“You know, Scully, I’m not sure that we should be partners anymore. It seems that the light does, in fact, go out! I mean, what’s next, Scully? You’re going to say the Beatles are better than the Rolling Stones? You’re going to admit that you’re secretly a big fan of Journey? I mean, where does it end, Scully?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Only three more hours...

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on tumblr @x-files1993


End file.
